Suicidal
by wrongturn
Summary: A kind of short story about Harry and Draco arguing over Draco's life. Needless to say, this, like everything, ends up in tragedy anyway
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: 

I don't own characters 

But if they belong to you 

I _REALLY_ DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS 

So please don't sue 

:: Heh. Never gets old:: 

Warnings: is kind of slashy, though the mildest type. Draco/Harry Pairing implied. Got a bit of infrequent strong language, so do the whol 'don't like - don't read' thing, eh? 

So, considoring your still here, read on... 

Harry, depressed and sleepless once again drifted through the halls of Hogwart's with noting but the robes on his bruised back, and pain in his mind. 

Like so many other nights, with Filch dead from the war, and Peeves serving his duty a an immortal spy, there was no one to catch him. Students once on holiday, now rotted in their deceased minds with nothing or no one to love and look for them. 

And then war was still raging. There was talks of spies in Hogwarts and Voldemort planning an attack. Harry was just glad to be away from the Dursley's, giving the bruises on his back a chance they had not had during the many weeks to heal. 

At least, he had hopes, though Seamus's seemed to be sinking lower and lower into despair at the loss of his family, and the only way to vent his anger was on people. Harry, stronger and better at fighting when he had to get away from his Uncle, was not targeted. 

But defending Neville when Seamus so spontaneously jumped him that morning, had taken a lot out of him. 

So Harry wondered. 

He walked the dungeons endlessly with only insomnia for company in the dungeon. Torches had been extinguished Harry, if not having memorised his time from traipsing the corridors so many miserable times might have gotten lost. 

Though his mind was lost and impulsive, no longer thinking or speculating, as if every year, a part of him had died and gone. Coming to terms with his parents death for a second time, and meeting Voldemort, a mere memory, but still so powerful. 

Then finding out that the man he knew that killed his parents, was a stranger to him once again with ragged lines so etched deep into his face he was barely recognisable. 

And what about the liar? The man pretending to be someone he wasn't, only to kill Harry, and then the death of Sirius. It was like losing his parents three times over. 

The man he had been brought to love like the parents he had never had ripped away once again with his hope. And once again, a part of him had died with Sirius. 

And the love he shared for other people died with it. Why should he love the people ripped away from him in front of his very eyes. A part of his past, his parents past. 

So Harry wandered. 

A dull like shined out from the crack between the door, and a low murmuring of movements in the room, and perhaps the harsh hisses of a cauldron. 

Slowly Harry creaked open the door, weary that he might find Snape brewing a midnight snack in his pyjamas. 

Draco was standing by the fire roaring the grate, oblivious to Harry. 

His blonde hair shined in the fire light and shadows crept across his sharp features, his eyes locked on the vial with such intensity Harry felt a feeling of foreboding settle in his stomach. 

Harry, far on the other side of the room, snatched the vial with a summoning spell. 

Draco spun around with panicked grace. 

'Potter!' 

Harry held the vial up to the light. 'Vandal Root, Goat weed, Skull cap,' Harry bit his lip, not liking where his analysing was going. 'And... and _Passiflora incarnata_ - Malfoy - this is poison!' 

'No,' said Malfoy scathing. 'I thought it was _pumpkin juice_! _Now give it the fuck back!'_

Harry's mind raced. Was Malfoy going to poison someone - or himself? 

'I can't Malfoy,' said Harry, his voice dry. 'I can't let you kill yourself.' 

Malfoy laughed coldly, his eyes still trained on the vial, though he did not make a step towards Harry. 

'Isn't this rich,' said Malfoy. 'The famous Harry Potter wants to save precious little Draco from offing himself. Well you talk _shit_, Potter. In fact,' Malfoy drawled, and raised his eyebrows. 'I would have thought you'd be the first to kill yourself when pathetic attempt at parental substitute kicked the bucket.' 

'Fuck you, Malfoy,' Harry snarled, protective against Sirius's memory. 'Sirius gave his life for the ones he loved. Who would do that for you?' 

For a moment he thought he saw something cross Malfoy's face, but it was gone again. Just cool grey eyes of cold fury. 


	2. Questions

'You'll be dying in minute Potter,' Malfoy hissed. 'If that's the only way to get my vial back.' 

Malfoy still, never made a move towards Harry. 

'I don't know,' said Harry softly. 'If you were than insistent in killing yourself, why don't you just club yourself over the head with you cauldron this minute. Better yet, why don't you just sit in it and boil yourself to death?' 

'I may have lost the will to live, Potter,' said Malfoy maliciously. 'But I still have my dignity.' 

Malfoy began walking swiftly towards Harry, his black robes gleaming in the half light hidden behind him. 

'Malfoy,' said Harry once again, though with more strength. 'I am not giving you the vial.' 

'I'm afraid if you wanted a poison for yourself, you should have asked in advanced.' 

'Malfoy,' said Harry with a soft laugh. 'I am not going to lose you to.' 

Both seventh year boys stopped, facial features frozen. 

'You don't know what your saying,' said Malfoy after a moment. 'You'll regret keeping me alive in the morning.' 

'It's already morning Malfoy,' said Harry, the slight blush having rose in his cheeks falling away slowly. 'And you'll still be here tomorrow, and the day after.' 

'Not if I have anything to say about it,' said Malfoy viciously, launching himself about Harry. He felt backwards with Malfoy on top of him, punching every part of his body. Harry hit Malfoy too, and the vial shattered in his hands. 

Both were soaked and still fighting. Harry hit back with all the force Malfoy had set against him. 

The were soon out of energy, having gone the whole night without sleep, lying side by side panting and sweating, each have pinned each other in such a way neither could move, until one relented, both breaths shallow and in the same rhthym. 

Harry and Draco lay their, listening to their even breaths, and wondering how their bodies seemed to fit so well together. 

'Where'd you learn to fight like that?' said Malfoy, evident surprise in his voice. 

'Too much practice,' was all Harry said. 

Malfoy did not press the subject. 

'What were you thinking?' Malfoy snarled after a while of mustering up enough anger. 

'I don't know.' 

'Thanks to you, that's months worth of effort down the front our robes!' 

'And in a month, Malfoy,' said Harry fiercely. 'I'll do it again.' 

'What did you mean, _not losing me too_?' 

It seemed to take a lot of effort for Malfoy to spit the sentence out, though his voice was softer than before. 

Harry watched the ceiling for a bit. 

'You're my past, Malfoy. We make each other who we are.' 

'So,' said Malfoy viciously. 'You're part red-head, part poor, part girl and part mudblood?' 

'Don't talk about them like that,' said Harry automatically. Did he really care? 

'Spare me Potter. The only way Weasley's getting any poorer is if they start charging people for being wastes of space.' 

Harry had to smile at that. 

'Are these lines cleverly rehearsed Malfoy, or do you make them up as you go along-and no, they make me into what I grow. The influence. Like everyone influence you-Malfoy, why were you brewing poison?' 

Malfoy tried to get up, back Harry held him forcefully. In truth, his arm was under Malfoy's back, and it was start to hurt, and Malfoy was doing nothing to lessen the weight. He was pressing down hard, though it was hard, as Harry was holding his arm behind his back. 

'It's my time to die Potter, that's why.' 

'Did Trelawney tell you that? Because then I'm a six year old zombie.' 

'It's not a joke Potter. I do not live to serve.' 

Harry's eyes widened. 

'Voldemort?' 

Draco's grip on Harry became lax. 

'Yes.' 

Draco sat up slowly, as if to prove he wasn't running away. He crossed his legs and face him. Harry sat up to. 

Draco was still pink, and there marks from potion ingredients where he must have wiped his hands across his face. A bit of fringe fell in Draco's eyes and he had the sudden urge to push it away. 

Harry reached out and brushed the hair from Draco's eyes, and felt a strange chill down his spine. 

'During the summer,' said Draco quietly, looking at the ceiling, because he never looked down. 'Father took me to become a death eater.' 

Harry watched Draco's delicate features cloud over with concentration once again. 

'And... and...' 

'He didn't let you?' 


	3. Confessions

Just pretend the disclaimers and warnings are on this page too. 

'He didn't let you?' 

'What do you take me for?' Draco blazed suddenly. 'Of course he did!' 

'Then...?' 

'Now I'm supposed to serve. Only - Harry - _I don't take orders_ - it took me a bit to long to work _that_ out though; Order's are for the week and brainless.' 

'It's-its not to late though,' said Harry hastily, still wondering whether Draco was still considering suicide. He racked his brains for anything to discourage him. 'I-I have a scare-and apart from some pains now and then-it really-is nothing.' 

A ghost of a smile fleeted across Draco's tired face. 

'We are both _scarred_ Harry,' said Draco looking over at the fire with such intensity as if Harry were there, and not next to him. 'But there is a difference. You're scarred with love, and I as far from that you could ever get.' 

Draco pulled the sleeve of his robe up, revealing the Dark Mark Harry had been dreading. 

'We can - you can - tell Dumbledore-he'll-he'll understand.' 

Draco's laugh was dry and scathing. 

'He's a batty old fool who knows nothing more luck,' he scoffed. 'Pathetic, really.' 

Harry, who was still hurting from all the deceit, and lies Dumbledore had told him, did not bother with a defence. 

'You think that _too_, don't you?' said Draco astonished. 'What happened to you to? I thought you believed the best in _everyone_.' 

'I never did,' said Harry perhaps more sharply than he meant. 'You never saw me sit down for a cup of tea with Voldemort and a quick gossip, did you?' 

Draco considered this, and the idea seemed almost enough to make him smile. 

'I guess,' Harry continued. 'I grew apart from all that crap.' 

Draco reached out slowly and tipped Harry's chin up. 

'You still look like a child to me,' he smirked. 

Harry, who had let Draco's pale hand affect his insides so badly, was stung by that comment; because, well, he _felt_ like a child. He'd been through so much, and still he felt the haunts of childhood behind him, waiting to be experienced. 

Harry reached up and took Draco's cold hand slowly. 

'A child would not have been through what I have been. Draco, a child is someone who runs away.' 

'Once again,' he said coldly. 'I am being discouraged from my ideas. I will, Potter, create another one. I never fancied being doomed to a life of pitiful service. No matter how much you try and keep me alive, we both know death...' 

Draco had been leaning so much forwards Harry could feel his hot breath on his lips. 

Then Draco's hand tightened painfully. 

'_Someone's coming_.' 

Both scrambled to their feet, and Draco cleared out the cauldron filled with half of the ingredients he had used in the poison (_'Evanesco'_) and Harry cleared up the shattered glass. But before the fire was extinguished, a very pale faced looking Professor McGonagall. 

'What on _earth_ do you think you two have been doing?' she shrieked. Then even louder -'Have you two been _duelling_ - I don't believe this - and what in Gods name have you done to your _wrist_?' 

Both looked down at their wrists, but it was Harry's wrist that was bleeding from the crushed glass. 

'Fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin. This has got to be the most stupid stunt you two have ever pulled! 

'Potter, up to the infirmary! Malfoy, get to your dormitory before I deduct anymore points! _Now_!' 

Muttering and swearing under breath, Malfoy took one last fleeting look at Harry. Harry returned the intense glare, and was filled with a hope that Malfoy was not going to brew another potion any time soon. 

~*~*~*~ 

Harry Potter died that night from posion. It was clear he had ingested the poison through his wrist and into the blood. He was killed slowly, and though the death was not fast, the boy did not suffer too much pain. 

Malfoy, as an excellent potion brewer, could at least be credited for that, but was found no sooner than a few months later killed at the hands of the same poison. 


End file.
